Chapter Text
After a torturous yet infinitely rewarding four years at Natlan’s famous Kiongozi Arts University, Lumine was dreadfully homesick.
The past she’d buried for so long rose yet again like a zombie and she dreamed bittersweetly of her years in Liyue.
Natlan’s vibrant city life was overwhelming compared to the quiet countryside of her hometown in the outskirts of Chenyu Vale, and ironically, it made her feel lonelier. Her mom didn’t have a phone, saying it was a waste of time; and her old friends barely texted her.
But more than ever she wanted to return.
She had begun preparing to start a company based in Liyue, an art studio perhaps tucked beside Uncle Zhongli’s funeral parlor or by the famous Wanming restaurant (though she wondered if it was still there). Then she could finally return home.
So, once spring withered to an end, she threw her graduation cap high into the sky, hoping her mother had even caught a tiny glimpse of it, and then packed her suitcase to return to her beloved Qiaoying village.
Once she reached Liyue Harbor, she practically threw herself onto the small boats running back and forth to Chenyu Vale. Just as she went to board one, a familiar face jumped up behind her.
“Lumine!” A boyish grin met her eyes. The brunette held a colorful, masterfully crafted lion head upon his hip, eyes gleaming with familiarity.
“Gaming,” She waved.
“It’s been so long, Lumine! Oh, are you going back to Qiaoying village? I have a few packages to collect from there, let me accompany you.”
Lumine nodded quickly.
Reuniting with old friends that fate had set on separate paths was truly a privilege, and Lumine hoped to take full advantage of it.
Gaming looked much the same, with the exception of his hair— the bottom half was dyed a handsome maroon, a wish he’d held for his adult years when they were in high school. They chatted quietly, about college and Natlan, and the long boat ride in stifling summer shortened considerably.
From Yilong Wharf, they took a smaller motor boat through the significantly narrower Jingling River, and arrived at the outskirts of the village, where rows and rows of ripe, faint-smelling tea leaves greeted them.
Among the soothing aromas, there came sweet sweet Nostalgia, blanketing Lumine’s mind in a flurry of childhood remembrances— of her dashing through her parent’s small tea leaf farm, with her childhood best friend Xiao. Where was he now? She could only hope he was smiling as brightly as he did once upon a time.
She rushed down the paths with her bag in tow, bidding the buzzing Gaming farewell with a promise to a get-together dinner.
Suitcase clacking along the unkempt stone paths running around tea farms, houses and the occasional grocery store, she ran toward her house, the route returning to her mind with vivid clarity.
Her mother would be so happy to see her daughter come home with an art degree and a blossoming startup, at the ripe age of 22. She would smile, and it would satiate the guilty sickness welling up in Lumine’s stomach that reminded Lumine she could no longer recall a vivid memory of her mother’s radiant smile.
She was finally home, and that was more than enough.
But still, her heart was hollow because the other half of it had vanished along with the last wisps of cool wind from many springs ago— perhaps he went to Fontaine to continue training in acrobatics, but Lumine wished, selfishly, that he had stayed in Liyue, and they could meet once more.
His smile, not just radiant but contagious and painfully rare, struck her like the full moon, a gem among the speckled sky. Alas, this longing to see him once again was merely a wish, and wishes were for those who wanted to ignore reality.
Middle and high school students dotted the stone paths, their whispers of excitement and reprieve from school’s interminable hours flooding Lumine’s ears. School was no longer a concern to her, yet she couldn’t help but be jealous of their youth, and how they could still look forward rather than spend their days reminiscing.
But no matter, for she was almost at her house, and one beyond theirs was Uncle Zhongli’s (whom Xiao lived with).
She would see her mom sitting by the window, eating 馒头, her favorite doughy steamed buns, or perhaps sipping tea from the leaves left after picking season came and they returned from the market. Or perhaps she was chatting with Thoma, a young Inazuman farmer who helped them during picking season, and whom her mother had cared for like a son.
But the house was empty, and the windows were dark. Or perhaps she was out in the market with Thoma, for it was nearing picking season, or maybe she was watching Thoma work with his friends in her fields, or maybe…
Lumine’s mind started to swim. Her mother did none of that. She knew, but she wish she didn’t.
Lumine knocked their polished wooden door one last time.
The door still bore the scratches from years ago— when her and Xiao had haphazardly carved “divine blessings” into their door to ward off demons, bestowing the name “Alatus” upon Xiao (for Lumine had decided he had the demeanor of a spiritual protector, though she had never met one).
But only the marks of their innocent happiness remained, and she could feel it no more.
Her gut ached with worry. What had happened when she was gone? Was there a letter, lost somewhere at sea, which had failed to reach her and therefore failed to convey important information?
She sat down on the steps, and waited.
The sun was falling asleep. She got up from her misery, and decided to try Uncle Zhongli’s door, though she feared their conversation would be rocky and awkward.
Indeed, the light was on, and she hesitated at the door, thinking of a way to greet him. Before she could think of something to say that wasn’t “Hi Uncle Zhongli, where’s my mother?”, the door opened.
But it was not Uncle Zhongli. It was Xiao.